


will you teach me your love?

by RiantRaccoon



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: Amnesia, Anxiety, F/F, Panic Attacks, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, every character i write is trans unless stated otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:24:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23712934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiantRaccoon/pseuds/RiantRaccoon
Summary: Bella Swan lays in a hospital bed following James’ attack at the end of Twilight. When she recovers she finds all of her memories have left her but a gorgeous, petite woman stays by her side.The events of Twilight happened exactly as Stephanie Meyer has written them (with a little creative freedom on my part) except Alice has taken the place of Edward.Also, Bella’s probably trans? idk it doesn’t really matter.
Relationships: Alice Cullen/Bella Swan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 138





	will you teach me your love?

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve written this in a quarantine/depression haze. I should also mention that Bella’s amnesia is most likely not medically accurate and I give zero fucks about it. Also I apologise for the spelling mistakes/grammatical errors I no doubt missed proofreading this. Enjoy! <3

_Her consciousness floats in the emptiness. Except it doesn’t quite float. To float would require some semblance of direction or gravity to which this endless void has neither. She simply exists; unburdened by the realities of physical existence._

_The abyss is silent. It offers nothing to her senses apart from a cold that would be uneasy if it weren’t so strangely familiar. It’s not biting like the winter winds nor is it chilly like a somber night. It’s the complete lack of anything that comes with death. Only she isn’t dead. She isn’t quite alive either. It’s a half life. One without purpose._

_Eternity stretches onward. Or it could be that no time has passed at all. At once she both is and isn’t - everything and nothing - until somewhere deep inside her subconscious she feels a longing to reach out. To what she has no idea. She just needs to feel something other than this nihilistic limbo._

_So, she swells and searches for something._

_“This could be it, you know,” a voice calls. There is no audible sound with which to discern whose voice it is. The words are felt deep within her existence. To explain how she knows what is being said would be a fruitless feat. It’s akin to the narrative of dream. One simply feels._

_“You could stay here forever until everything becomes meaningless. Until time becomes indiscernible and your memories of now feel like a long forgotten story.”_

_But why?_

_“Because it would be easy,” they offer._

_If something is easy does that make it right? Life isn’t easy._

_“ **Your** life isn’t easy. You’ve struggled and fought for so little. Is it really worth going back to that?”_

_The answer doesn’t come to her mind so much as it comes from somewhere deep in her core. It’s written into the fabric of whatever she is. To struggle and fight is to be._

_The voice is silent. It does not respond because it is drowned out by the abiding warmth that swells in her hand. Which naturally leads her to realise that she has a hand. The radiance extends up her arm, fading by the time it reaches her shoulder, but it’s enough to make her senses fire in every other part of her body. A miasma of something that she’s taken for granted for too long._

_Life._

~~~

Bella wakes in the living world. Her eyes open to the sight of the sterile, white ceiling that’s illuminated with a blinding artificial light. Her eyes are greeted with a stinging pain. She closes them once more and lets out a hoarse groan. One that causes the pain in her eyes to be accompanied by an unpleasant scratchiness in her throat. Every part of her is dry.

“She’s awake!” comes a voice that Bella could mistake for an angel. It’s melodic and resonant. The warmth that’s in her hand is met by a forceful light in her chest. It swells with the music of those two words and causes her crackled lips to spread into a wry smile.

It isn’t a physical warmth. Her hand is actually encased in a touch that is quite cold. Nevertheless, it brightens her from within and sends her lips curling upwards in a gentle smile.

Bella opens her eyes, slower this time, and lets the artificial light seep into her retina. It isn’t exactly pleasant.

Her head collapses to her left, resting her cheek on the scratchy material that covers her pillow. It’s the same side of her warm hand. A warmth that is explained by a woman who could not be aptly described even if you had a thousand page thesaurus that detailed every iteration of the word “beautiful”. At some point it would break its pattern for a brief respite with the world “small”.

She’s never seen this woman before in her life and yet she would be more than happy only ever seeing this woman.

Her hand comes to cup Bella’s cheek. Bella’s smile widens.

“Hi,” she croaks.

The pure joy on the woman’s face is evident even as her eyes well up with tears. Her body rushes forward, all semblance of touch is lost until she’s swamped by the small woman’s massive embrace. She returns the hug. It’s only difficult because of the tubes and wires contacted to her right arm.

“I’m sorry,” the woman squeaks.

There’s a pause in her movement. The world stops too, or at least it does from Bella’s point of view, while she tries to search her mind for the answers to two very important questions.

First of all, who is this woman

Secondly, why is she sorry?

Bella ultimately decides that, while the first question is more important to her, it might be better to tackle the second of her questions in the likely event that she’s supposed to remember this woman. The last thing she wants to do is offend someone that makes her feel like a golden light is bursting forth from her chest. As far as things go, that’s the absolute bottom of her list.

“Sorry for what, hot stuff?” she asks coolly. The words flow out of her mouth rather easily - or they would if the entirety of the Sahara desert wasn’t located squarely within.

The woman leans back. Her hands return to Bella’s, cupping and holding it firmly, before realising that she needs to wipe the tears from her eyes. Bella isn’t quite sure if her hair is a mess or if it’s naturally like that. Regardless, she appears quite frazzled in every possible way except in her physical appearance. When it comes to her beauty she’s the definition of perfection.

She nibbles on her bottom lip, fighting back tears, in a manner that’s both heartbreaking and adorable. The urge within Bella to comfort her friend is strong. The wires attached to her take precedence though. The beeping is probably from a heart monitor and the tube is definitely putting something into her body.

A deep breath is all it takes to compose the woman. At least, it appears so.

“I should have been there with you. I should have gotten there faster! I should have seen what was going to happen!” a pause is followed by another deep breath. The woman’s voice croaks when she speaks her next carefully chosen set of words.

“I blamed you for running off to fight James alone. But… If you couldn’t trust me then I did something wrong. I’m sorry, Bella,” she says.

Bella stares at the woman and tries to process everything she’s said. Her mind goes over those words once, twice, multiple times.

_Been there._

_Fight._

_James?_

_I’m sorry._

None of them make sense. Bella looks down at her bed sheet and the blanket that covers it. It’s knitted with warm colours of red, orange, yellow, and a forest green. The designs are so intricate that it must be hand-made and hand-made with love at that. It must be important to her.

It must be something she would remember and yet she can’t.

More importantly, where is she? It’s obvious from her general surroundings that she’s in a hospital of some sort. There’s a veil around her bed but that doesn’t stop her from overhearing quiet conversations and the machinations of machines if she really tries to listen.

Bella has found herself in a hospital but what hospital? And why is she here?

The woman cups Bella’s cheek and turns her head towards her. Their eyes meet. The woman speaks softly.

“Bella, are you okay?”

Bella’s eyes search the woman’s face for answers about anything. Who she is, where they are, why does she feel so positively happy staring into the eyes of someone she doesn’t know.

The monitor behind her is no longer sounding steadily. It beeps faster, gradually mounting to something that isn’t clear. The woman’s eyes divert their attention to the monitor.

Bella is finding it hard to breathe. She’s having to focus on forcing down air that isn’t coming in quick enough to replace what she’s expending. The pupils of the woman’s eyes expand.

“It’s okay. I’m here, baby. I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re safe,” the platitudes are repeated over and over in that same soft tone of voice but they are empty. Maybe not to the woman but to Bella they are empty.

Her companion’s words become drowned out by the sound of her heartbeat rapidly thudding in her skull. It reverberates through the bone; sounding so loudly that it seems impossible that nobody else can hear it. There’s a knot in her stomach that can’t be undone. It’s accompanied by acidic nausea.

With every breath Bella takes she’s beginning to realise that her body is in a worse state than she originally thought. Her ribs ache dully. Whenever she tries too hard to inhale there’s a stabbing pain shooting through her. Quickly, she finds her limit and tries her best to not exceed it. Every time she does, and she does frequently, she winces.

Needless to say, it does not help matters.

Two men enter the room in a manner that could not be described as careful. One of them is taller, older, and more battle-worn. There’s circles beneath his eyes that make them look sunken and afraid while the other man is the epitome of health. Aside from his pale skin. The two men speak Bella’s name. One much calmer than the other. The calmer voice seeps through the noise like honey slipping silkily through the cracks. It registers and yet it does not help.

As the air in Bella’s lungs become sparse, sweat glistens on her body. There’s a tightness in her chest that’s inexplicable. All she needs to do is breathe. All she can manage is shallow huffs. Faster, she tries to fill her lungs. Quicker, the edges of her vision fade

They fade until there is only black.

~~~

_The void greets Bella. It had been only moments since she last visited. Her connection to anything physical feels tangential at best._

_A myriad of questions swirl through the recesses of her mind and none of them can be answered. The information is simply not there. Bella can remember herself in vague terms - a chalk outline drawn on a desolate street. What fills in the gaps or the world around her is lost to whatever part of her saw fit to remove them._

_“I told you,” calls the voice._

_It’s words are blurry too. Bella strives to find a response or perhaps another question. The voice seemingly knows what she’s going to say before the thought has even formed._

_“You are correct. Giving up is not in your nature. Not in the slightest.”_

_Whereas the world had come back to her slowly before, this time it speeds into view. Bella is pulled along for the ride; to be confronted with the fact that this unknown is not too dissimilar from the other._

~~~

The realm of the living does not greet Bella warmly. There’s a residual burning in her lungs, throat, and an ache in her ribs that is much more prominent than before. She hasn’t learnt from her previous experience either and opens her eyes much too fast. Three figures are presented before her only to fade away when she closes her eyes again. She groans.

Slowly, the three are revealed: the woman from before, a moustached man with hair that’s somewhere between brown and grey, and a blonde adonis.

Mr. Moustache causes her chest to illuminate in a different way than the woman did. It’s a cozy warmth akin to a fireplace on a winter’s day; a blanket pulled over you and a kiss on the forehead as you sway in that state between awake and asleep.

“Bella,” the blonde man speaks. His honey voice is a welcome greeting.

With a second attempt at being conscious, Bella decides to re-evaluate her options. The memories of what happened prior to blacking out are still fuzzy but they’re slowly coming back in. One thing is for certain: she still has no idea what’s going on.

“Water. Please?” she asks. The woman presents her with a glass of water almost immediately. The lukewarm temperature does nothing to inspire anything but lethargy. Nevertheless, it eases the pain in her throat. Bella manages a thank you with much less effort than previous.

The blonde man, a doctor judging by the appearance of his white coat, smiles down at her. It helps much more than she would have initially thought.

“You’ve been out for several days. You took a rather nasty and unpleasant hit to the back of the head that rendered you unconscious,” he explains. Bella’s chest tightens.

“You’ve also sustained a number of injuries: several bruised ribs, two broken, and a broken wrist on top of that. You’ll make a full recovery soon enough. However,” the word lingers in the air, “Do you remember your name?”

The question is a softball. The response comes with no hesitation.

“Bella Swan.”

The doctor smile, nods, and continues.

“Good. Do you know my name?”

Bella scans his person. There’s an ID badge. No doubt given by the hospital. Another softball.

“Dr. Cullen,” Bell answers.

The doctor stifles a chuckle that causes his whole body to jolt. His smile grows into a smirk. The other two strangers in the room seem to relax somewhat. The doctor does not.

His body is tense, muscles taut, and everything about him is unnaturally straight. There is not a single thing about him that’s unsettling and yet every part of his demeanour seems practiced - intentional. It somehow adds to his pleasant aura. Like everything is so thought out because he wants you, personally, to feel comfortable.

“I suppose I should have taken off my ID first,” the other two tense again, “Can you tell me your father’s name?”

Given that he’s the only other man in the room, Bella takes a guess that the moustached man is her father. The fact that she can’t remember her name is a worry. The beeping machine beside her beeps faster. She pushes herself up in her seat, back tensing, as if to get a better look. As she does, she inhales. The breath doesn’t quite leave her.

It’s her Dad. The answer should be effortless. The same way that you should know the day of the week or what month you were born. The same way a young girl should be able to tell you what she does on a day-to-day basis or why a certain woman makes her heart skip a beat upon seeing her concerned face.

Bella wants to answer correctly. She wants to bring this man relief. Ultimately, she has to shake her head. She bites down on her bottom lip as she does it to stop it from quivering. It doesn’t quite succeed.

The man’s expression is blank. Where concern was once written it now shows a practiced canvas of nothing.

“That’s okay,” says the doctor. Warmth glides from his voice. He opens his mouth to speak only to be interrupted by the woman.

“Do you remember me, Bella?” she squeaks. She leans forward in her seat, hand gripping Bella’s wrist in a gentle touch. Her voice is like practiced, delicate fingers on a harp. Every syllable adds to a symphony. Bella could listen to her for hours and not get tired.

She hates that she has to shake her head.

The woman settles back down. A frown occupies her beautiful lips.

The doctor - Dr. Cullen - begins to explain Bella’s condition: retrograde amnesia. Several more questions are posed to the patient only to come up empty with each and every one. A glance at the heart monitor tells him when to stop as Bella’s heart races faster with every subsequent inquiry.

He smiles sympathetically at everyone in the room, “I’ll order a series of tests to make sure that there’s been no permanent brain damage. We’ll keep her here overnight as well. There is a risk that her memory loss is in the short-term too.”

~~~

The following afternoon Bella is able to walk out of the hospital with little more than a cast around broken wrist. Every step is a little tender. Charlie doesn’t mind that she takes her time.

“You’re sure you’re feeling okay, Bells?” he asks.

“I’m fine, Dad. Promise,” Bella smiles. There’s something familiar about those words in that specific order. The smile comes naturally.

Charlie nods a couple times more than necessary.

The two navigate the car park with Charlie leading the way. Every couple of steps has Bella wanting to pause. The pain in the lower left of her ribcage throbs incessantly with a dull ache that steadily grows with every couple of steps. By the time the two of them have reached the police cruiser, she’s thankful for a seat.

“You’re a cop,” Bella says. It’s a statement; not a question. Her voice is airy. The words come out while her consciousness is buried somewhere in the back of her head.

“I think I remember that?” she continues, “It’s not… I didn’t know until now but it feels familiar.”

Charlie smiles. It’s not a lot but to him it’s everything - it’s hope.

Bella fiddles with her hair as they take off out of the car park with agonizing slowness. It’s not Charlie’s fault nor the cruiser’s. Hospital parking lots are never designed for efficiency and it’s something Bella comes to learn quickly.

~~~

There’s a hope nestled within both Charlie and Bella. One they don’t realise the other shares. It causes a silent tension thick as Fork’s morning mist that permeates through the air of the car. If Bella can’t remember anyone in her life then surely a familiar place will jog her memory?

Charlie sits hopeful as Bella stares longingly out the window. Longing for a spark, a fragment, _anything_ to restart the engine of her memory banks. Twinges of familiarity come and go but nothing settles itself. There’s nothing concrete.

Finally, the car pulls into a driveway. Bella looks at the house and she looks hard. Her eyes focus on every little detail from the tall trees looming over the overgrown front lawn to the sticker of a rainbow flag barely visible in the corner of the second story window.

“Anything?” Charlie asks.

Bella shakes her head, “Nope.”

“Maybe your bedroom might do the trick?” he adds.

Bella nods and steps out of the car. The chilly Winter breeze is no friend of hers. One step follows another up the short pathway to the front door only for her foot to leave the ground too soon after the other is planted. It gives way although it’s not clear which one it is. The end result is the same. Bella’s backside comes crashing down on the concrete. She reaches for her side, hissing in air at the shooting pain up her spine and along her ribs.

“Fuck!” she mutters a little too loudly. Charlie is by her side in an instant, offering helping hands.

“Shit! You okay, Bells?” he asks.

Her immediate thought is that, contrary to how comfortable the solid concrete might seem, she is not okay. Her memory is gone, her body aches, and now Bella can’t even manage a few steps without fucking it up.

But she chuckles.

“Hey, I remembered something,” she smiles. Bella looks up at Charlie. His eyes are full of life. This is the best news he’s had in a week.

“Yeah?”

“Falling down fucking sucks.”

It takes a moment but a smile spreads across Charlie’s face that’s as genuine as the shoulder-shaking laugh that bellows from deep in his gut. The tension that was in the car - the thick fog - dissipates and he helps Bella up with his fatherly strength.

“Alright, let’s get you inside. I’ll give you the tour,” he says.

Charlie keeps a hand on Bella’s arm as they move inside. The help isn’t demeaning nor is it controlling. In a world where everything is new, foreign, and unknown, Charlie acts as a grounding presence that keeps Bella from hyperventilating into another panic attack. The anxiety is still undoubtedly there but it comes in the form of an quickened heart rate and more frequent breaths. It’s not ideal. It is, however, better than passing out for the second time in two days.

Once the two are inside their home, Charlie releases his gentle but firm grip on Bella’s upper arm. He watches while his daughter takes off her shoes and proceeds to gently tiptoe around the place that she’s lived for months now. It’s strange to both Bella and Charlie although for entirely different reasons.

She scans her surroundings, tuning into her emotions for any sign of anything, only to do a full circle that leads her back to the front door empty-handed. It’s a quick process.

“Is my bedroom upstairs?” Bella asks.

Charlie smiles. It’s forced this time.

“Yeah.”

The short trip overcoming Bella’s new enemy - stairs and the pain to her aching body they bring - ends in her entering her bedroom.

She stands a few inches away from the door frame. Her eyes glide over the contents of her room only to rest firmly on her bed. Bella’s eyes shift from her bed to her window and back again. There’s a connection. A spark ignites in her head to illuminate something that doesn’t quite have a physical shape but it fills her with a warm giddiness nonetheless.

Charlie steps behind Bella and places a gruff hand on her shoulder. His grip is gentle and barely there.

“Remember something?” he asks. He can’t hide the hope in his voice.

“Yeah,” Bella replies, “I don’t know what but it’s happy.”

~~~

Sleeping in her own bed is much more pleasant than the one at the hospital. However, Bella doesn’t actually get much sleep.

A cursory peek at her school books reminded her that, yes, her memory is in fact completely toast. Amnesia applies to personal memories and general information about subjects such as math, English, and biology. A few things here and there make sense. Most of it does not.

“Two days to relearn everything I’ve ever been taught at school,” Bella mutters to herself. She paces around her small bedroom on Saturday morning. The soft breeze entering in from her window does little to combat the burning panic flushing her cheeks nor does it manage to quell the panic sitting in her upset stomach.

“It’s fine. It’s okay. It’s fine. I’m fine. Cool as a motherfucking cucumber.”

Bella breathes. Except she doesn’t quite breathe properly. The familiar feeling of panic sets in and something tells her that the hospital isn’t the only time she’s had a major freakout like this. She doubles over, hands on her thighs for support, and tries her hardest to force air into her rapidly emptying lungs.

Bella is ignoring her racing heart. Bella is ignoring the sweat on her palms. Bella is okay. Except she’s not.

Bella is freaking the fuck out because holy shit she’s going to become a high school drop out all because she tripped and fell down some stairs like a complete fucking idiot.

Hands are suddenly on Bella’s shoulders. Small, dainty hands that could pluck a feather from a bird with the greatest of ease. One moves - glides - to Bella’s chin and raises it up with a firmness that is somehow forceful and gentle all at once.

Alice’s eyes meet Bella’s.

“H-How- Where?” Bella croaks.

Alice shushes her with a smile, “Breathe with me, love.”

The smaller woman, who Bella now matches in height due to being crippled by anxiety, begins with a slow and deep inhale that Bella struggles to match. She inhales quickly - too quickly. Her lungs fill much too soon. Alice doesn’t appear to mind as she gently exhales. Bella manages this a little better but not by much.

The sequence repeats for the next several minutes. Alice inhales with Bella rushing to the end way too soon and does the exact same when she expels that air out. Little by little, her heart rate slows from a raucous gallop to a mild rhythm. Likewise, she manages to match Alice’s pace. The thin layer of sweat coating her body, most noticeably in very unattractive places, becomes much more noticeable when her temperature cools from her calmed state.

Bella, now standing straight, smiles at Alice. That awful, nauseous feeling in Bella’s stomach lingers faintly only to be edged out bit by bit by the glowing warmth that swims inside of her upon finally taking in Alice’s presence.

It's actually kind of amazing how quickly Alice is able to get Bella from sheer panic to calm.

“See?” Alice smiles, “Much better.”

Bella blushes. The words don’t quite manage to come. Alice spends the silence brushing some stray strands of hair away from Bella’s face.

“It’s much more fun when I’m the one making you all hot and bothered,” she quips.

Bella blushes harder. Alice giggles.

The first thing that comes to Bella’s mind escapes her lips, “How did you get in my room?”

Alice tilts her head to the sight. Her eyes are full of glimmering light and her smile is somewhere between coy and simple joy.

“Through your window. From the tree, silly.”

It said like the most normal thing in the world. Bella has panic attacks and Alice jumps in through windows from trees that are both difficult to climb and barely anything close to her house. Alice giggles again.

“I think you need to worry less about me and worry more about getting a tutor. Lucky for you, I know a really cute one,” she smiles.

Bella smirks, taking Alice’s hand in her own. It’s a compulsion - muscle memory - rather than something she does premediated. While she does notice this as something strange, the feeling of Alice’s soft yet surprisingly cold hand in her own brings her enough delight to push those worries aside. Pleasant tingles shimmer down Bella’s back when she rubs her thumb over the back of Alice’s palm. That thumb circles a few of her knuckles before working its way back.

“Oh? I wonder if she’s single?” Bella muses with a wink. Although it’s less of a wink and more like a seizure specifically located on the right side of her face.

Alice’s voice takes a more somber tone. Her smile falters when she speaks,“It’s up in the air. It’s been worrying her actually. The unknown scares her quite a bit.”

This is someone that Bella, in her current state, has known for less than two days. She could not tell anyone Alice’s favourite colour, the music she likes, or what her hopes and dreams are. Everything about her is a blank profile yet to be filled out.

And, yet, among all the uncertainty that her amnesia has brought nothing is felt stronger than the pull towards this beautiful, angelic, tiny woman.

It’s a sentiment that’s communicated through actions; through Bella’s soft lips melting into Alice’s. One hand cups her girlfriend’s cheek while the other rests on her hip. Alice meets the affection, pressing her small body to Bella’s, and smiling brighter than before.

The warm glow within Bella shines brighter than it has since she woke up. The ground around her is shaky but when she’s in Alice’s embrace nothing appears more concrete.

The kiss ends with both women smiling. Their hands are on one another as a sign of possession as much as signs of love. Alice giggles again. The brightness in her laughter is contagious so Bella laughs too.

“I didn’t see that coming,” Alice says.

“It felt right.”

Alice smiles. This time it’s her to initiate the kiss. It’s still soft, still simple, and yet Bella feels small in her girlfriend’s arms in the best possible way. Like she wants to cuddle up with a blanket, a warm fire, and feel Alice’s fingers trailing through her brunette hair. It doesn’t last long enough no matter the time they spend with their bodies pressed up against one another.

There’s another giggle from Alice when they separate slightly. She leans up and places a quick peck on Bella’s nose.

“We should get going. Jasper’s waiting to give you a crash course on high school English,” Alice says

Bella pouts, “I thought you were tutoring me.”

Alice laughs more boisterously this time. Her entire body shakes. It’s quite adorable.

“And I still want you to like me by the end of the day. Ergo, my brother. Now get that cute butt into gear. My car’s outside.”

There’s a hesitation in Bella’s body. She holds onto Alice, not wanting to let this moment go. It’s partially because being with her is one of the few things that feels natural since losing her memory. It’s also because relearning all of these things she needs to know for school isn’t going to be anything short of mind-numbingly difficult.

A pull inside of her is strongly urging her to give up. This is an impossible situation. Nobody in their right mind would fault her for delaying her graduation or giving up entirely. Especially with half the school year already over.

It would be so easy to give up.

But something inside of her tells her that just because something’s easy doesn’t make it right. She sighs, nods, and finally relents.

“Alright. Let me get my things. This Jasper better be as cute as you or I’m dropping out.”

A quick kiss from Alice and her beaming smile is all the encouragement Bella needs.


End file.
